Putting Out Fire with Gasoline
by Leigh Adams15
Summary: He should have been strong enough to stay out of her bed. He'd made a list. The List was important, not to be ignored. Ignoring The List could only lead to catastrophe.


**Title:** Putting Out Fire with Gasoline (1/1)  
><strong>Author:<strong> Leigh  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Percy Weasley/Gabrielle Delacour  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> ~3,800  
><strong>Summary<strong> He should have been strong enough to stay out of her bed. He'd made a _list_. The List was important, not to be ignored. Ignoring The List could only lead to catastrophe.  
><strong>WarningsContent:** Hand-job, wall sex, French accents  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Harry Potter is JKR's. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.  
><strong>Author's notes:<strong> Written for the 2012 round at wizard_love.

* * *

><p>Percy Weasley was a dirty old man.<p>

There was no way around it. As much as he tried to deny the fact, or at the very least paint it over, it was there - staring him in the face. He was a lecherous, dirty old man. For Merlin's sake, he was nearly _forty_.

Alright, so maybe he was _just_ thirty-five years of age (_thirty-five and still single_, Molly Weasley often lamented); he liked to think he was wise beyond his years. Of course, he had thought that of himself since his ninth birthday, but that was beside the point. He was the youngest undersecretary at the Ministry of Magic, and his reputation amongst the international community as an expert of import/export regulations was without parallel.

All in all, Percy was no longer in his twenties. He was knocking on middle age's door, if the sporadic streaks of gray in his red hair was any testament. He had the life and routine of a bachelor, set in his ways, and he wasn't looking to change. At least, not anymore. He'd utterly botched his first real relationship, and he hadn't done much better the second time around.

Penelope had been his first love. His Hogwarts girlfriend; a Ravenclaw who liked to... try things. Things he'd heard his older brothers talk about. They'd been quite serious there for a while – until he'd let his ambition blind him to everything happening around them. Without his family, Penelope had been his only solace in an increasingly dark world. And then, when the Ministry began introducing anti-Muggleborn legislation, he'd even lost that.

_"If they're attacking Muggleborns now, how long until they go after the half-bloods?"_

He hadn't wanted to see her reasoning, sound as it was. So he'd ignored it, and he'd lost Penelope.

After the war, he'd apologized for it. He did a lot of apologizing after the war. Penelope had forgiven him and she was one of his closest – and few – friends, but they'd never tried to rekindle the spark they'd once had. Too much had passed between them for that to be a possibility, and she had wanted more than the stable, quiet life of a Ministry official's significant other. Percy didn't understand it, but he respected it.

And then there'd been Audrey. Sweet, unobtrusive Audrey; a Scottish halfblood witch with a band of brothers to rival his own. He'd botched that relationship as well. He hadn't given her the attention she deserved, too busy with work – it was right before his promotion – and too self-absorbed to notice that his once-happy girlfriend had red-rimmed eyes and a constantly downcast expression.

Merlin, he was stupid. His mother had nearly strung him up by his toes when she'd found out.

But at least Penelope and Audrey were his age. They were proper matches for Percy; witches who had stable careers, steady sources of income, and were mature enough to know their goals and wants. They were the sort of women he needed to be attracted to – and he had been, at one time.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case here. No, these days there was a certain blonde that kept invading his thoughts. One of the few women he'd met who was taller than he was, with luminescent blonde hair, blue eyes, and a laugh that made his stomach do a childish little dance.

And that certain blonde was one Gabrielle Delacour.

It was wrong on _so_ many levels. He'd even made a list.

Late one night, unable to sleep, he'd sat down at his antique bureau Mazarin and scratched out notes on why he, Percy Ignatius Weasley, had to stop thinking about Gabrielle Anaïs Delacour.

**One** – She was eleven years his junior. It was indecent.

**Two** – She was his sister-in-law's younger sister. If Fleur were to find out, she would murder him. Slowly. And it would be _painful_.

**Three** – She didn't have a stable job. She did work, at least, but modeling could hardly be called 'stable.' It was entirely dependent upon a number of coefficients which could change at any time, rendering one's ability to perform said position null and void.

**Four** – She was part-Veela. They were tempestuous creatures at best; unpredictable and dangerous when provoked. Of course, Fleur was _also_ part-Veela, and that didn't seem to have had a detrimental effect on Bill's well-being... but then again, his older brother was a bit bent. Exhibit A: that fang earring.

**Five** – Her English was atrocious. Her sentence structures rarely made sense, and she had no grasp whatsoever on transitive and intransitive verbs. It gave the perfectionist in him - which he freely admitted comprised the majority of him - a nervous tic.

This never would have happened if he'd stayed strong and fended off her passes.

Oh, who was he kidding? By the time he'd noticed she _was_ making passes at him, he was already in so deep he had no hopes of getting out alive. Percy wasn't sure if it was because she was French, or because she was part-Veela... or perhaps just because she was a woman. Regardless, she knew exactly how to command and control his attention.

And Percy was a legs man. Always had been, always would be. Most men might be attracted to women with larger breasts or round arses, but not Percy. He liked the long, shapely lines of a woman's legs, and Gabrielle _certainly_ wasn't shy about showing hers off.

Those skirts she wore were probably illegal in more conservative countries.

Alright, even if he hadn't fended off her passes – which, obviously, he hadn't – he should have been strong enough to stay out of her bed. He'd made a _list_. The List was important, not to be ignored. Ignoring The List could only lead to catastrophe. If one counted shagging Gabrielle against his desk at the Ministry a 'catastrophe' (the Wizengamot was still out on that verdict), his hypothesis had been proven true.

One time. One shag. And he couldn't forget it.

He'd shagged other women before – women he _hadn't_ been in committed relationships with. His brothers wouldn't have believed him, but he wasn't inclined to let them be privy to the details of his intimate life. Between Penelope and Audrey he'd had a string of one-offs after the war; meaningless sex, driven by grief and alcohol. Always a stellar combination. He didn't really remember the details of his partners, only that the number of women he'd slept with was definitely greater than four and at an equal or lesser value than seven. Or eight.

Anyway. Gabrielle. He'd managed to hide from her for three months after their night together, polishing The List and accepting work assignments that kept him busier than usual. He'd convinced himself it was a passing fancy, that he didn't _want_ to see the blonde again. He could be a perfectly productive and happy member of society without wanting to see his sister-in-law's sister naked.

Of course it couldn't last.

* * *

><p>Sunday dinner at the Burrow was a family affair, and attendance was not optional. The only excuses for missing one of Molly Weasley's weekend meals was death or childbirth... and the latter was negotiable. During their bachelor days, there had been many a Sunday when Percy's brothers stumbled in, clutching a vial of Hangover Potion like a lifeline. But they were at the table, and that was all it took to make their mother smile.<p>

It was especially important to her. After Fred.

It was at such a Sunday dinner the months of Percy's efforts came crashing down about his head. It couldn't have happened somewhere quiet – a bookstore, perhaps, or the coffee shop in Diagon. _No_, the object of his ruminations just had to appear at her heavily-pregnant sister's side.

"Gabrielle!" Molly exclaimed, hurrying around the kitchen to give the young Frenchwoman a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Once the blonde had made it clear she'd no designs on Harry's attentions, Molly had warmed to her nearly instantly. "It's so good to see you again, dear. You're looking a bit peaky - a nice meal ought to help that."

"_Merci_, Molly. Eet was very nice of you to invite me. I 'ope I am not intruding."

"Nonsense, dear!" Dominique promptly launched away from her mother and flew into Molly's arms. "You've been traveling so much, I know Fleur likes having you here with the baby so close." She made a 'tsk' noise and gave her daughter-in-law's perfectly round stomach a good lookover. "Fleur, are you sure you're eating enough? Putting on enough weight?"

Fleur just waved her hand. "I 'ave put on more weight in six months than I did with Victoire or Dominique in nine, Molly." She smiled when Bill's arm slid around her waist, leaning back into her husband's chest. "Besides, Bill ees taking care of me."

"He's a good boy. Bill, take Fleur into the garden – dinner's ready. We were just waiting on you." Molly beamed at her eldest, then glanced over her shoulder. "Gabrielle, you'll be sitting next to Percy. I hope you don't mind. He's the only one who didn't bring someone, so you'll round things out nicely."

"_Mum_." Percy was sure his ears were a lovely shade of crimson. This was perfect. Just bloody perfect. He'd gone three months without seeing Gabrielle, and now he'd have to sit beside her. Not just beside her, but close enough to touch; Sunday dinner was a crowded affair.

"I am not minding at all." She flashed Percy a dazzling smile, a gleam in her blue eyes. "I 'ave not been seeing 'im much in ze last months. Eet 'as been too long, Percy."

He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the heat creeping up his cheeks. "Indeed."

He gestured towards the door, indicating she should go in front of him. Ladies first and good manners, that sort of thing. It certainly wasn't because he wanted to admire the view from behind. Not at all.

"You've been well, I assume?" The evening air was slightly cool, a welcome contrast to his overheated face. He was a grown man, a Ministry official. He could handle an hour or two next to a beautiful woman. He could, and he would. That was all there was to it.

But when she tossed that long hair over her shoulder to look at him, gaze full of mirth as she said, "I 'ave. But I am 'aving ideas for being better," he knew it was going to be a _long_ two hours.

He was a man of character, but he wasn't a monk.

* * *

><p>For the most part dinner was uneventful – or as uneventful as any Weasley family gathering could possibly be. It was loud and chaotic, but that was just his family. With the expanding number of grandchildren, it was nearly impossible to make oneself heard without shouting, and Percy did not indulge in that sort of thing. He was content to sit and listen to his siblings and their spouses coerce their various progeny into sitting still, behaving, and not throwing food.<p>

Ginny had just started a fairly amusing story about something Lily and Hugo had done the week prior when Percy felt something. A touch, feather light, on his knee.

His gaze shifted to the side, but Gabrielle wasn't looking at him. Her attention was focused on Ginny, and only the slightest curl to her lips gave any indication that yes, his suspicions were correct, and that _was_ her hand on his leg.

He jiggled his knee slightly, and the touch disappeared.

Inwardly, Percy crowed triumphantly. If that was the worst Miss Delacour was planning on throwing at him, then he was calling the evening a relative success. After tonight, he could go home, enjoy a nice glass of scotch, and perhaps enjoy the latest George R.R. Martin book. He'd been meaning to start on _A Dance With Dragons_ since its release during the summer.

But then, the touch was back – this time, much higher on his leg. _Much_ higher, as fingertips slid over his inner thigh. Percy froze. She wouldn't dare...

He nearly jumped out of his seat when Gabrielle's hand slid even higher, right over his newly-forming erection. _Don't move_. The mantra repeated over and over again in his mind, as if telling himself not to move would somehow make the reality of his situation better. He was sitting in the middle of his _entire_ family, nestled between Gabrielle and Charlie, and the former was giving him a hand-job under the table.

His left hand curled into a fist, squeezing so tightly his knuckles went white. Mind racing, Percy thought over his options. One – he could excuse himself to the loo and take care of his 'problem.' If he did that, it was likely one or more of his brothers would notice his state of duress – more than likely, in fact – and comment on it. Two – he could sit out the torture and leave as soon as dessert had been served.

He weighed the two choices carefully, desperate to think of _anything_ but how good Gabrielle was at what she was currently doing. While he wanted nothing more than to disappear, he didn't fancy his family taking the mickey out of him for the next five or six years over this. While the latter option could still certainly end in embarrassment – the odds of him coming in his trousers was increasing by the second – that scenario could be handled much easier than fleeing the scene.

When her fingers curled around him and gave a little squeeze, Percy nearly lost it.

"Are you alright, Percy?" Molly's concerned tone cut through the melee.

Percy marshaled his focus to look at his mother, swallowing mightily before nodding. "I'm fine, Mum," he managed faintly.

His mother wasn't buying it. "You most certainly are not. George!" she called down the table while fixing one of her middle sons with a stern glare. "I told you, you were not to put any more of your trick sweets in your brother's drink! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"I didn't!" George had to stop and 'shhhh' Roxanne as she giggled, clapped, and called for her father's 'birdy sweets.' "Honest, Mum, I left them all at the shop."

Whatever chastisement his mother had for his brother was lost to Percy's ears. Gabrielle hadn't stopped her busy little hand, and the way she rubbed his hard-on through his trousers was making stars dance in his vision. He was close, _so_ close, and despite his brain trying to hold off, he was about two seconds from climaxing at the dinner table.

And then she stopped.

He actually gasped in relief, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Tension was still tight in his shoulders and thighs, but the danger of coming in his trousers had been narrowly avoided.

Good. That was good. But now, there was a dangerous idea forming in his brain – an idea that involved taking the smug blonde at his right and punishing her for that little stunt. It was a dangerous, _stupid_ idea.

But if she'd started something, then she could be sure that he, Percy Weasley, would finish it.

* * *

><p>"Dinner was lovely, Molly. <em>Merci<em>."

Molly waved off the praise from Gabrielle, cheeks tinged with pink. "It was nothing, dear. It's always so lovely to see you... when will you be back in town?"

She was tormenting him. Again. A vein in Percy's temple throbbed as he watched his mother and the object of his damnation making polite small talk in the kitchen. If he were more like his brothers, he would have interjected himself between the two and hauled Gabrielle away with him.

But he wasn't like his brothers. And so he waited, biding his time until the two women had finally stopped talking. Which, in his current state of anxiety, felt like four hours – but was actually only about five minutes.

"Gabrielle?"

She turned, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "_Oui_?"

He cleared his throat. "I... I have that book you asked about, the one we discussed last time we spoke? If you'd like, you're welcome to stop by and pick it up before you return home tonight." The words sounded hollow to his ears – he'd never been the best at making excuses – but none of the others batted an eye.

She smiled, blue eyes filled with mirth. "I was theenking you were forgetting about ze... book. Eet would bring me great pleasure to go to your 'ome and -" she paused, and her gaze flickered to give him a long look-over, "read."

Pink filled his cheeks. "Well. Shall we adjourn?" He proffered one arm for her to take. There were niceties to be observed; even at his advanced age, he was not too old for Molly Weasley to take her wand to his backside.

Gabrielle slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. "_Allons-y_."

The 'crack!' of Apparition filled the small flat, signaling their arrival. He didn't give her time to say a word; Gabrielle's back was against the wall before she'd had time to register their change in venue. Percy's grip on her slender wrist was tight, fingertips digging in as he pinned his form tight against hers. This was stupid, but not even the voices of his better angels could convince him to stop.

"That was a highly inappropriate display at dinner," he growled – _growled_ – in her ear. He gave a roll of his hips, the erection she'd coaxed forward pressing against her lower stomach.

She laughed, the throaty sound fading to a moan when he pressed harder still. "Eet was? I am not knowing… I theenk you enjoyed it, per'aps." Her head moved closer, her lips a hairsbreadth from his when she whispered, "I know zat I did."

Percy groaned and closed the space between them. Lips and tongues and teeth met in a furious, desperate kiss, both of them scrambling for the upper hand. He loosened his grip on her wrist and let his fingers slide up to lace through hers. His other hand found her smooth thigh and grasped it, hitching it up around his waist.

Gabrielle was not one to sit idly by. She was an active participant in her pleasure. Percy recalled that all too well from their last coupling, and the image was fresh in his mind when he felt her free hand pop open the buttons to his trousers. This time, there was no fabric impediment in front of her, nothing to stop her hand from circling around his straining member.

Bare skin against his. His lips broke from hers to trail kisses down her throat, pausing to groan against her pulse point when she squeezed. "Bed," he managed to gasp out. "We should –"

"Ze bed can be later. I want you _now_." Merlin, when she raked her nails over him like that, how was he supposed to do anything but comply to her every single desire?

The hand on her thigh slid beneath her dress, up to the round arse he'd been unable to stop staring at earlier. His lips curled against her neck in an expression that was pure masculinity. _No knickers_. Nothing to stop him from slipping his fingers through her wet – _oh_ so wet – folds, pressing his thumb against the little bud nestled there.

Gabrielle's grip on him tightened as she moaned in his ear. "Eef you are not fucking me now, Percy Weasley, I will _kill_ you."

She didn't have to say anything else. Two sets of hands pushed at his trousers, and with a thrust of his hips, Percy was buried to the hilt in her. She didn't bother to stay quiet, moaning loudly as her head fell back against the wall. So responsive, so wanton. Her inner muscles gripped at him, snapping his self-control.

He set a brutal pace, fucking her into the wall. Each snap of his hips was met with a roll of her own, quickly establishing a pace that was sure to leave marks on the both of them – a circle of bruises on her pale thighs from his tight grip, bloody marks on his neck from her perfectly manicured nails. Her breaths were high and quick, each punctuated with a keening little gasping sound that rang in his ears.

Merlin. Less than twenty seconds inside of her, and he was about five seconds from coming.

Percy moved one hand to where they were joined, a long finger circling her swollen nub. Quick little flicks, in time with his thrust, and Gabrielle screamed his name as she orgasmed. She was still shuddering and jerking around him when he gave himself up to her, climaxing with a groan and a final thrust of his hips.

They slumped against the wall in a tangle of limbs and heaving chests. He was still buried inside her, and though their current position was most unbecoming, Percy couldn't bring himself to pull out.

The blonde lifted her head and gave him a slow, seductive smile. "Mmm," she hummed, flexing around him to illicit a groan from his lips. "You are as good as I remember, Percy."

"This was a bad idea." Percy reached up to push his glasses back up his nose. "We should not have done this."

She rolled her eyes. "Eef zis ees your idea of pillow talk, zen you need to be practicing more, _non_?" Her arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer to nuzzle at his neck. "Why are you fighting it, _chérie_?"

"I ... I have a list." Percy closed his eyes, swallowing deeply. "I made a list. Of reasons we shouldn't be doing this."

Gabrielle laughed against his neck, the sound rolling against his skin and eliciting gooseflesh in the wake of her warm breath. "_Bien sûr_, you 'ave a leest." She pulled back to give him a wicked grin. "Per'aps you will read me zis list? I would like to be 'earing why you theenk we can not be fucking."

He should have said "no." He should have sent her back to her flat, told her to forget about him and that this thing between them – whatever 'this' was – was over. He was an intelligent man. He should have made the intelligent decision.

But as Percy was quickly learning, intelligence was no match for a beautiful – and naked – woman.

"Maybe later." Making sure her legs were still tight around his waist, Percy turned and began to walk her back towards the bedroom. "Right now, what do you say we give the bed a try for once?"


End file.
